Legacy
by Aren't you glad
Summary: The story of Scouts-Many-Marshes and the Dragonbon's life together. 300 wordish vignettes based on a 100 prompt challenge, mostly fluff. I do not own Skyrim, or the characters in it, or the prompt list I used for the chapters
1. Beauty

_Lucy_

Argonians have beautiful scales, I thought dreamily as I lay next to my lover Scouts-Many-Marshes, or just Scouts, as I called him. His scales were a lovely wine-bottle green, decorating paler skin. However, I'd seen Argonians with magma red scales, nightshade purple scales, mana blue scales...the variety was endless. It made my own race's range of flesh tones seem boring and dull in comparison.

I nuzzled into his side, burying my face into the stretch of rough skin where his neck and shoulder met. He chuckled sleepily and wrapped his arms around my naked form.

"That was...wow." His currently contented, exhausted, and mildly surprised voice held a delightfully raspy undertone which I dearly adored.

"Mm." I murmured sleepily. "We aim to please." We chuckled together. I kissed one of the bony protrusions along his jaw, before disentangling myself from his limbs. I stretched out like a starfish, hearing the faint 'pop' of my joints, before sitting up.

"Alright beautiful. It's time for you to get to work and for me to get going."

"Aw." He bemoaned as I stood and searched about for my clothes. As I tried to untangle my smallclothes from my apron, he spoke again.

"You truly are lovely." I glanced back at him.

My lips were too wide and too thin to really be considered pretty. Apart from that, I was virtually unremarkable. A touch taller and muscled than most of my kind, but not particularly ugly, not particularly lovely. My eyes were the colour of freshly cut grass, and my dark chocolate brown hair fell loosely about my shoulders. I was, all in all, an average Cyrodillian woman.

"You too, handsome." I teased, covering the disbelief in my mind. My chalky skin couldn't compare to his lovely scales. There must have been a hint left in my tone however, for he sat up and tilted his head quizzically. He didn't speak again.

We embraced one last time as we left Hjerim. Looking deep into each other's eyes and smiling as I secured my pack, we went our separate ways, him to the docks, I to...well, wherever life would take me next. No matter how much I hated the cold, or the city my lover lived in, or the racist, selfish Stormcloaks…

I had to admit, Windhelm was where my lover lived. And just for that fact, it was beautiful.


	2. Love

_Scouts_

To be perfectly honest, I had never thought much on love. I had never experienced it, not in a romantic sense, so it was an abstract concept to me. The Nords treated me with distrust, if not open disgust, and of the few female Argonians in the Assemblage, I considered them only as friends, or sisters. My own sex held no pleasure for me.

Then one day..._she_ had shown up, dragging herself, freezing and soaking up the dock steps. She had curled up and shivered a while before someone approached her.

"Are you alright?" Shavee asked the Imperial, who looked up with bleary eyes.

" 'M fine. Fell off the bridge." The human grinned, unabashedly. "Guess I'm still not used to the cold."

I didn't see much of her after that, until she tapped me on the shoulder and started asking questions. I was a little shocked at first, used to humans treating me as a slave, but answered her questions happily. Her curiosity seemed disproportionate to her experienced eyes, but when she heard of the inequality we suffered at the hands of Shatter-Shield, her face lost its enthusiasm, her lips pursed, and she grew contemplatively silent. She bid me farewell before purposefully walking off into the city, an angry briskness in her stride.

Less than an hour later she crawled up the docks again, gasping and spluttering. I was close by, and this time I rushed to her side, helping her onto dry land.

"Couldn't find my way here through the city. Got lost. Figured swimming was easier." She explained between gasps. The bedraggled Imperial shook the frigid water out of her hair and looked up at him, smiling. "Torbjorn will pay you fairly now. He has sworn it." She rested a pale, calloused hand on my chest. "If he does not, let me know. I will ensure he fulfills his oath."

The sight of her, looking up at me, smiling, an unreadable expression in those eyes, have stayed with me to this day. And to this day, it awakens a strange longing in me. Like I would move mountains if it would make her smile like that again.

When I lie in my bed at night, sadly devoid of her presence, I begin to wonder if that strange longing is love.

After all, what else could it be?


	3. Dream

_Lucy_

My dreams are empty things. Neither good nor bad, I roam through an odd dreamscape. Everything is white and blurry, with no sense of up, down, left, right...I aimlessly navigate the place, never getting anywhere, the landscape never changing no matter how far I run. Every night, for ten years, this is where I go upon sleeping.

But one night, as I curled up in my bedroll in this harsh land of Skyrim, the dream was different. This time I was no longer alone. my lover, Scouts was there with me in the dreamscape. He smiled at me, an unguarded expression of pure and utter joy. He took my hand in his pointed, scaly one, and absentmindedly rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.

"Will you walk with me?" His voice was no louder than usual, but it seemed to shatter the normal silence of my dreamworld. I, on the other hand, found myself unable to speak, settling for a simple nod. He led me through the space. Cracks started to appear in the white. But he was still with me, and I felt no apprehension.

I woke then, and my first thought was _I will marry him one day._ There was a second or two of that simple concept, before Tamriel came back with a vengeance, and doubts flooded my head. _You don't even know he likes you,_ they whispered. _He's a completely different species-you could never work, _they told me, cruelly. _What would your parents say?_

I flushed those thoughts from my mind, returning to the task at hand. I couldn't afford to be distracted by such trivialities, not in the hostile wilds. But when I was back at Breezeholme, in my bed….

Well, that was another matter.

I only hoped that he would visit me in my dreams more. The emptiness of my dreamscape was infinitely more pleasant with him by my side.


	4. Haunted

_Scouts_

From the moment she walked through the door, I could tell something had happened. Her usually clear and curious eyes were haunted, hunted, almost empty. She forced a smile, walked up, greeted me and made conversation as she always did. But she carried herself with a weighted air, like she had all the burdens of Tamriel on her shoulders.

Which, in retrospect, she kind of did. But I didn't know that at the time.

I tried to ignore that haunted look. Tried to pass it off as not being my business, or something beyond any help I could give. It worked, to some extent. We talked and laughed and drank together, and I felt comfortable and secure in her presence.

But then I went to get more drinks. And when I came back, she was staring into the flickering flames of the hearth. The firelight danced over her face, painting chalky skin a gorgeous golden hue. Her eyes were far away, lonely and distant. The best artist on Nirn couldn't make a more picturesque image of vulnerability and sadness.

It broke my heart to see her so miserable. But what could a lowly dock worker do to cheer up a legendary adventurer such as herself?

Whatever he bloody well could, that's what.

Silently I crept up behind her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. Instantly she stiffened, ready for a fight, but when she realised who it was, she instantly relaxed into my chest. She felt good next to me-as hot as fire and as soft as silk. After a while, she spoke.

"I went to Morthal." Her voice was barely above a whisper and very hoarse. "I fought a vampire nest there. I saw how the disease can….change people. Make them into monsters. But they….I…." Slowly she raised trembling hands to inch the collar of her shirt down. I swallowed.

Two ugly bite marks, barely scarred over, decorated the side of the neck. But not the dainty pinpricks of legend, oh no. These looked more like the work of a wild animal, tearing open her graceful throat.

"Are you….Lucy…." Her shoulders were shaking, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

"I drank a cure disease potion as soon as I got out."

"Lucy, everyone makes mistakes-"

"I was just so _scared _Scouts." I reached up to cup her face, stroking nonsense patterns into it in a bid to soothe her.

"You will never be a monster. Even if you are a vampire, because if there is even a fraction of Lucy left in there, you will be a good person." She leaned into my arms.

"I believe you Scouts."

The next morning, when she left, she kissed me on the cheek and smiled that smile from the day we met. That was when I vowed that no matter how many burdens she had to bear, no matter how many ghosts haunted her spirit….

I would always be there for her.

I could still remember how she felt in my arms.


	5. Memory

_Lucy_

My entire life, I've learned to compartmentalise my memories. When I need something, I find the compartment and reach for it. All my professional knowledge, how to smelt iron, how to forge metal, etc, in one place. My combat knowledge, the correct way to hold a sword, decent battle stances, how to string a bow in another. Names , faces, conversations in another place. And in a tiny, padlocked box, hidden away, all the pain, the humiliation, the fear-out of sight, out of mind, but never forgotten. Never, truly forgotten, much like a scar that always looks a bit sore, no matter how long it's been in place.

And so on.

But I found myself noticing so much about Scouts. The way he walks, the raspy timbre of his voice, his body language, his speech patterns…. They all welled up and overflowed the place I usually kept social matters. I found myself creating a whole new compartment, just for the selfless Argonian. I found myself cherishing this compartment, a smile lighting up my face whenever I reached into it. Upon realising this, I started to seriously question how much he meant to me. I cared for him a lot that much was obvious.

Was I really ready for a relationship? It didn't really seem fair for me to try and make that sort of bond without delivering any consistency. I fought bandits, and delved into tombs, and hunted for treasure to support myself. I had a home in Whiterun, but I barely ever visited the Hold except to sell loot and practise blacksmithing. What could I ever promise him?

On the other hand….I did adore him. From his lovely green scales, the reptilian features that suited him so well, the altruistic gleam in his eyes to his calloused and capable hands, the wiry muscles of his arms, the pleasing rasp of his voice. From the moment I met him, he was truly and utterly considerate, worrying over the welfare of his colleagues, wishing that everyone got along, and even bothering to answer the questions of an insufferably curious and surely half-drowned Imperial.

If he felt as I did….maybe the hardships would be worth it, just for a chance at a lifetime of memories with him.


End file.
